Instinct
by Burichi-i
Summary: He killed to make the voices stop. It was the only thing that brought him peace. But it only fueled his torment. Ichigo Kurosaki is Japan's most infamous serial killer. Can he be stopped? Or will he drench the nation in blood. *AU*
1. Chapter 1

**AN: New AU Bleach fic. No Shinigami or hollows etc,. etc. So I made Ichigo a depressed serial killer with split personalities…..why? I enjoy it when characters endure psychological trauma….**

**Anyways…..this is kind of a sample chapter….I wanted this to be a oneshot but I'm too lazy right now to finish it all.**

**Enjoy! =3**

**Disclaimer: In no way am I claiming to own Bleach or anything associated with it**

_Chapter One: So simple, isn't it?_

_Ichigo, what is the difference between a king and his horse?_

Red was the color of his life.

It stained his hands

His clothes.

His heart.

It fueled his rage.

His fear.

His depression.

_I don't mean some bullshit kindergarten riddle like "one's a man and one's a horse" or "one has four legs and the other has two._

_Assuming they are two different beings and their form, abilities, and strength are exactly the same when one becomes the king and dominates the battle, the other becomes the horse and lends his power, but what makes them different? That's what I'm asking_

…_There's only one answer…_

_INSTINCT! _

A final scream faded on the man's lips as his life drained out of through the lacerations covering his bare arms and torso. He had been a simple man, a business man, on his way home from work to an empty apartment, save a now ownerless fluffy white cat.

None of that matters now.

His screams had at first been muffled by a large hand covering his mouth. He was dragged backwards and into van. The kidnapper hit him over the head with something and it all went dark.

He awoke leaning on a cold steel wall, with a throbbing pain in his head. As his eyes came into focus, he saw that he was now located in a brightly lit warehouse. It was sparsely filled with empty cargo containers. Some was spattered with what appeared to be dried blood. But he was too groggy to notice this.

The man heard a shuffling coming from behind the only door he could see. The door opened with a loud squeak. Another man emerged, this one younger, slim but wiry, with shoulder-length messy orange hair that was pulled back in a low pony-tail. The man thought it was strange that in each hand he was carrying a slim-bladed sword. One white and one black. The man wondered was those could possibly be for.

The orange-haired man tossed the black katana onto the floor in front of his captive.

"Pick it up." He commanded in a taunting voice that was bursting with excitement for what was to come. "Ready? I hope you can find it."

It was all coming together for the man on the ground. The reality was all coming together for him. He had been taken by the most infamous serial killer in Japan's history. There was no hope for escape.

He scrambled to pick up the sword. When he got to his feet, his vision blurred and his head throbbed even more.

"W-what do you mean f-find 'it'?" asked the man in a trembling, fear stained voice.

"You're Instinct of course."

_The one thing all powerful people need to acquire power, the one thing needed to become a king is simply a fervent desire for battle and for strength! To crush your enemies without mercy, to rip them to shreds, to mince them to bits, to have an absolute lust for battle, to rip off our skin, carve our flesh, crush our bones, there, ingrained in our nerves lies a refined killer carved into us by the primal hierarchy._

_THAT THING KNOWN AS RAW INSTINCT!_

The captive's foggy brain could not process this as he stood up grasping the black weapon in his shaking hands.

"Are you ready to fight honorably to see who will be King," asked the killer his mouth curving in an insane grin readying his body for a fight, tensing his muscles, bending his knees, leaning forward while grasping his white katana firmly as side. A well practiced stance of a killer on the hunt.

The captured man let out a small scream and ran away, as fast as his battered body would let him. He ran right into the maze of cargo crates. Consumed by an ever-growing fear wobbled he on his feet as he frantically tried to find an exit to the labyrinth. All the doors had been welded shut. The only entrance was where the killer had entered.

The killer sighed. He rarely ever got to fight the way he wanted.

'This guy had such potential too….' He thought wistfully before disappearing like a shadow into the maze to stalk his prey.

The man had be running for a few minutes, now heard metallic footsteps sounding above him. There was a pause. The killer had jumped down from one of the crates. Slicing his katana through the air, he landed a well placed and purposeful blow to his victim's upper right arm, rendering it useless. Not that his captive would have much time to think now that he was upon him.

Slash after slash soon brought the man to the floor, where a final downward stab ended him.

The killer stood over his victim, his chest raising and falling rapidly from the kill and the adrenalin coursing through his veins.

Suddenly, he changed. The excitement left his eyes; they filled with terror and sadness.

"Why," he asked.

_Isn't that what you wanted King? It's what you've always wanted._

~x~

The next morning.

"Ma'am, a call came in. He has killed again."

The police chief, sitting at her desk said, "Send out the forensic team, I'm on my way."

**AN: hope you liked it. feedback would be lovely :3**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** **I've changed my pen-name. I was Yagami Ichii. Now I am Burichi-i. Just thought you should know before reading…..if that even matters haha**

**Enjoy~!**

Chapter 2:

Sweat dripped down his shaking arms and into the bathroom sink. Ichigo's hair fell lankly in his face, sticking to it in some places. His breath came in harsh rasps, fighting to stay in reality.

He'd let it happen again. He had lost control.

But it felt so good.

Everything dropped away.

He could be at peace.

Shirou made all the pain go away and every time he left it came back tenfold.

Ichigo had seen what Shirou had done, all the people he had hurt.

He makes himself not care. He took away his pain.

The despair.

The loss.

The hopelessness.

The self-pity.

He remembers the first time Shirou appeared…

_SLAM!_

_The flutter of his jacket and the loud closing of the door was the last time Ichigo ever saw of his father._

_His father. Whom he idolized. A famous kendo fighter, now retired, who taught Japanese at the local university._

_They were a happy family Ichigo and his father and mother._

_Life was looking even brighter; Ichigo was going to be a big brother._

_Masaki was pregnant with twins. _

_They couldn't be more thrilled._

_Ichigo remembers the day everything changed. Masaki had a regularly scheduled check-up. She and Isshin had left Ichigo at home._

_Ichigo heard the front door open and his parents walk inside. He smiles and runs to greet them anxious to hear the news. As he enters the sitting Ichigo knows there is something wrong. His parent's faces look drawn and his mothers' eyes were red and puffy._

_She had had a miscarriage. _

_Masaki quickly spiraled. Often throwing things in random bursts of anger or drinking until she passed out. Isshin was able to console her at first, but this didn't last for long._

_Sometimes taking her rage out on Ichigo by hitting him. _

_This went on for three years. His mother's abuse had escalated. She would often come into his room at night. Crawl into bed with and stroke his head whispering the names of her unborn children until a moment of clarity would hit and she would remember they were dead and she would smack Ichigo or drag him out of bed and kick and scream._

_His father never did anything._

_He finally left when Ichigo was fifteen leaving no trace behind except for his twin katana's that were left hanging on the wall of the sitting room._

_Ichigo never forgave the man for leaving him there, with his delusional mother._

_She spent her days lying around drinking and smoking. He had countless scares from where the cigarettes had scorched his skin._

_He spent most of his time by himself. That's when Shirou came to him._

'Ne, King, why don't ya just stop her. Ya could make it all go away.'

'What?'

'Make her disappear….'

_He'd just whisper at first, but he got louder and louder._

'Shut up!' _Ichigo would scream. He knew what the voice wanted. He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't._

'_I hate you!' his mother screamed kicking him again in the stomach._

'_You took my babies from me!' Tears stained her face. Her disheveled auburn hair flying widely around her as she prepared for her next move…_

_Ichigo's vision went red._

_Insane laughter escaped his mouth, he was no longer in control._

_Ichigo felt his body stand up and lunge toward his mother. He struck her face. Hard. Masaki falls to the ground, unconscious with a small trail of blood coming from a wound along her cheek bone. He turns his head and sees the swords hanging on the wall. Shirou walks over to them and grabs the white on off of the wall._

_Masaki was just regaining consciousness, when Shirou unsheathed the sword._

"Still sharp." His lips curled with glee.

_She was still too out of it to register what was coming next. She got unsteadily to her feet._

_Shirou came towards her slowly, the katana glinting in the dim light._

"Don't ever touch King again." _He whispered as he plunged the katana into her abdomen. _

_A small gasp escaped her lips as her limp body started to fall to the floor. _

_He felt her warm blood splatter on his hands as he yanked out the now stained red sword._

_Blood seeped out of her dead body soaking the carpet._

'I fixed everything for you King.'

_Ichigo looks down at his mother's lifeless form , adrenaline coursing through his veins._

_Liberation._

_That is what he felt._

_Maybe now everything would be better…_

Ichigo smirks grimly at the memory.

Better? Sure.

He'd lost count of the people 'he' killed. Every time it felt so good. It made him forget.

His mother

**His father.**

Pain.

Everything.

His became pure instinct.

He couldn't stop now.

~x~

"That's the second one this month Captain Kuchiki." A forensic official told the captain of the Tokyo police force.

The body had been covered and taken away, but there was still a lot of blood on the floor and splattered around the surrounding area. The entire forensic squad was swarming the abandoned warehouse.

Rukia Kuchiki was impatiently tapping her foot .

"I want pictures taken of every surface in this building, along with any possible DNA samples you can find. Where is the footage from the video cameras from the surrounding areas?" Rukia commanded of her underlings.

A breathless officer came up to her "T-the tapes….won't be available until tomorrow, but a-all the found samples have been collected and sent to the lab for analysis. It looks promising we found a piece of hair not appearing to belong to the victim…"

Rukia's eyes widened then she smirked triumphantly.

'We've finally got him.' She thought to herself.

"Thank you. I expect a full report by the morning." She said before turning swiftly on her heel and exiting the warehouse.

She had be hunting the katana-weilding serial killer for five years now. She had come up with every possible profile in order to attempt to track him done. Everything she had worked for came down on the DNA sample that was found tonight.

'I will make sure you are put through every torment possible. You bastard.'

**A/N: *Whew* that was painful to write. So…I'm not gonna make excuses about updating….I'm a lazy person haha**

**Lemme know if anything is unclear….I tried to be as psychological, culturally, and medically accurate as possible….with having to google anything haha**

**There's probably one chapter of this left…thank god….I think this story blows haha**

**Thank you so much for reading! :D Much appreciated!**


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